NEWTOWN, Conn. - The questions remained: How could Newtown stomach burying one of its children? Then, how could it fathom burying 19 more, one by one?

Those questions left lumps in dry throats and weight on heavy hearts Wednesday morning, but time to pause and answer them was fleeting. Gatherings to remember the first-graders and adults killed Friday at Sandy Hook Elementary School continued, with four more funerals and five wakes on Wednesday.

Victoria Soto, 27, the first-grade teacher who had been praised for protecting her students before being killed, Daniel Barden, 7, Caroline Previdi, 6, and Charlotte Bacon, 6, were added to the list of those who had been eulogized and put to rest.

The atmosphere of the funerals, which were held under brighter sunlight and clearer weather than what Newtown had seen since Friday, grew denser throughout the week. Though the misty rain that had become a staple in the area this week abandoned the skies, tears on the ground lingered. Inside Soto's funeral at the Lordship Community Church, she was remembered for goofy, almost childlike qualities that made her all the more relatable to the children she watched over every day: a love of Disney's "The Little Mermaid," the New York Yankees, the Tennessee Titans and the desire to eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Jillian Soto cried as she described her sister as being a "hero to me a lot longer than five days. You have been my big sister. I always wanted to be like you," she said.

Soto's former roommate, Rachel Schiavone, told mourners she "would put her heart and soul in every hug." And before those heartfelt speeches from her loved ones, Paul Simon performed a rendition of "The Sound of Silence," with its haunting, iconic lyric "Hello darkness, my old friend."

Two other funerals, and the attendees' themselves, reflected two young girls' lives in shades of pink, their shared favorite color. Many of the nearly 300 people at Christ the King Lutheran Church for Charlotte's funeral wore in pink shirts, ties and scarves. Little girls wore magenta skirts and carnation-colored barrettes.

"For some little girls, pink is just something pretty, but for Charlotte it was a passion," said one of her uncles. "And by a passion, I mean addiction." Her casket was surrounded by pink and purple bouquets.

Caroline's funeral was also a somber sea of pink, with men wearing a variety of pink ties and women in pink dresses. Sandy Previdi told mourners at St. Rose that her daughter, Caroline, was a "precious angel." Monsignor Robert Weiss said Caroline, who was nicknamed "Boo," is "probably the happiest addition to heaven in a long time. She was always happy, always smiling."

The familiarity shared by the mourners who knew the deceased was palpable, but in the midst of their shared grief unfamiliar faces and unknown names came forth.

She did not know any of those killed, and she was not from the town, but Maggie Capozza, of Weston, Conn., came to deliver a letter to Caroline's family written by her 17-year-old daughter, Michelle, whose father recently passed away.

"You are not alone," Michelle wrote. "There is a whole state of people to support you." Charlotte's favorite movie was "Brave," the 3D animated Disney-Pixar movie about a fiery redheaded princess from Scotland -- fitting for the 6-year-old, who had red curly locks herself.

"She was a gift of love, she was a gift of excitement, she was a gift of adventure and - we can admit it - she was a gift of mischief," said Pastor Rob Morris, who added that Charlotte had her own special name for the church's hymnals: the "Jesus opera."

Several wakes were also held on Wednesday, for Sandy Hook Elementary principal Dawn Hochsprung, who was known for her positive personality and for posting photos of activities at the school to her Twitter account, Chase Kowalski, 7, Benjamin Wheeler, 6, Catherine Hubbard, 6, and Anne-Marie Murphy, 52, a teacher and 14-year resident of Sandy Hook.

While relatives and friends waited in a long line outside Catherine's wake at St. Rose, a man nailed signs with pictures of angels on them into the ground at a nearby makeshift memorial. Outside Hochsprung's wake, 50 white luminaire bags spelled out "Hope." And at Benjamin's, at Trinity Episcopal Church, members of the Boy Scouts of America presented his parents, Francine and David, with the Spirit of the Eagle Award, an honorary, posthumous recognition for Boy Scouts under the age of 21.

As the number of those put to rest each day grew, overlaps emerged. Tissues and programs would be cleared up for one funeral, and setup would begin for the next.

Hundreds of family members and friends of 6-year-old Caroline lined up around St. Rose of Lima Catholic Church as 7-year-old Daniel's loved ones walked down the front steps of the church, some with heads down, some holding each other.

Two of Daniel's family members work at the New York City Fire Department, according to the New York City Firefighter Brotherhood Foundation. So his sendoff was official and at the same time personal: about 100 firefighters, police officers and service members stood at attention as funeral attendees left St. Rose, lining the sidewalks and spilling out into the streets in front of the church.

"You could feel the sadness, but also the strength of this community," said New York City firefighter Kevin Morrow, who attended the funeral. Inside, Daniel was remembered as a boy who was always on the go, ready to tackle someone with a bear hug, but someone who cared about the smallest creatures, often rescuing worms from the driveway after the rain and being a parent to his favorite stuffed toy.

Daniel's bus driver, Gary Wheeler, recalled the boy's smile, which was "as big as the sky," except for where his front teeth were missing. Wheeler spoke of Daniel's endless energy, saying "sometimes he just had to run."

Daniel inspired his family to better themselves and, as a final tribute to him, his cousin Madeline Giblin asked others to continue that legacy. If you need to stand up against something that you think is wrong, do it, she said. If you can help someone from feeling pain, do it, she said.

Her words moved those on hand and they stood in applause, some wiping away tears. As the crowd grew silent, Weiss stood in front of the sorrowful attendees to make an announcement.